Wherein Bry hears a song that sparks a memory.

There are many reasons that I will never do karaoke. Aside from lacking any sort of vocal abilities and the likelihood of embarrassing myself, I have the worst memory.

You might say, "Bry, they put the lyrics on the screen! Duh!"

While that is all well and good, I also do not remember how the songs are supposed to sound. If I can't remember the lyrics and I can't remember the melody, then what am I really doing? Slam poetry with the words of Journey's greatest hits?

I do have a great memory for many things. Mostly things I care about. The titles, authors, and plots of books, even books I have never read. Pop-culture tidbits (always my strong point in trivia games). And where to find the best cup of coffee within a ten mile radius. I also catalog every grievance or incriminating offense I hear about or witness so that I can use it against you (ask RF, he has been on the wrong end of this a time or two). But that is a story for another day.

Perhaps if I were a better singer and therefore interested in singing, I would be able to remember the words to songs. But I have never mistaken my croaky voice as worthy of an American Idol audition. My voice is better left to yelling at teenagers who run up the escalator the wrong way.

To this day, the only song I can remember the words to is Under the Bridge by the Red Hot Chili Peppers, though I can sort of fake my way through any NSYNC song (thanks to KT).

I do not remember the exact year, probably 1990 or 91, but I embarked on a hiking trip that consisted of 7 teens, two adults and two dogs. We hiked into the Blodgett Canyon near Hamilton, MT. The only song we all knew the words to was Under the Bridge. And we sang it 1000 times while trying not to concentrate on the 40lb backpacks and uphill terrain we were dealing with. By the end of that trip, the phrase "Sometimes I feel like I don't have a partner" was tattooed on my brain.

To this day, whenever I hear that song I instantly think about wearing the same clothes for a week, eating ramen cooked over the fire, and pooping in the woods.

I'm pretty sure that is the greatest compliment a recording artist could ever get.